


the burden

by poisonrationalitie



Series: Harry Potter Expanded Universe [24]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, F/M, Serious Injuries, Spell Damage, St Mungo's Hospital, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonrationalitie/pseuds/poisonrationalitie
Summary: Harry suffers some major injuries and they won't let Ginny in.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: Harry Potter Expanded Universe [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1052105
Kudos: 25





	the burden

“Let me through,” Ginny said. “ _ Now.  _ I’ve missed two training sessions already.”

“Miss Weasley,” said the pale-faced Healer. “Mr. Potter is in a very serious condition. We’re only allowing family.”

“I’m his fiancee, you numpty!” She threw up her left hand, wiggling her ring finger. A small, golden band held a singular diamond. “He’s got no family, he’s Harry fucking Potter, have you never opened the Prophet?” Healer Bleu folded his arms across his chest.

“They’re right about you,” he said. “If I came across you on the pitch, I’d be out of my mind.” Ginny rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. While ‘the Harpies’ Hurricane’ could’ve been taken the wrong way, it was better than ‘Bill/Charlie/Percy/Fred/George/Ron’s little sister’. “Does that mean you’ll let me in?” Healer Bleu tapped his foot on the smooth floors of the ward. Behind him, a large set of magically-sealed white doors hid Harry’s resting place from view. She blew out, lips flapping. Her pulse raced in her wrists. Beneath her eyes, dark circles were forming. 

Ginny pulled a strand of hair back into her ponytail. “Look, I know it’s policy. But, please. Don’t be a paperwork pushover. I’ve known him since I was ten, and we’re getting married next month. Get me in there, and the rest of us will go away. Okay, maybe not Ron and Hermione, but the rest. Or are you enjoying the kids’ temper tantrums?” she snorted. “At least the maternity lot know to expect us when the next one comes along.” Her eyes were burning. She looked at Healer Bleu, really looked. “I haven’t seen him in nearly two days.” The man sighed, looking down at his shoes.

“And what if I lose my job?” he asked. “Or someone rats us out to the Prophet, says we’re favouring celebrities?”

“If you lose your job for showing some bloody compassion, they’re fucking idiots and we’ll have it all printed in the Quibbler.” She eyed him. “It’s not what it used to be.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” he said. “I’ve read it since the War.” He lifted his chin, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll get the kids out of our hair? We’re not used to them, not up here. And the singing flowers? And the bits of rock?”

“Promise,” she said. “Trust me, they’re not bringing the kids here for the fun of it.” She was fairly certain Fleur was going out of her mind. They’d all told her that she could go home, take Victoire and Dominique, but she insisted in staying, along with much of the family. Only Charlie and Percy hadn’t come at all, and that was because Charlie was in Romania, and Percy was still sick. “The rocks are cakes, I think. Fleur’s been craving them.”

“Right. Come in, be quiet, don’t disturb the other patients. He’s still in the emergency section.” She sighed with relief. Healer Bleu glanced around, and then very gently, waved his wand. The doors  _ clicked,  _ and he held one open for her.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping through. He closed the door softly behind them. Her muscles tensed. Someone - not Harry, thank Godric, but  _ someone  _ \- was screaming. Shrieking. She clenched her jaw. Healer Bleu stepped in front of her and began walking down the corridor. She kept her eyes on the back of his heels. Nobody had even told her what had happened - they hadn’t been willing to disclose. Only that he had received some sort of spell damage. Her heart was knotted in her stomach.  _ It won’t be like Neville’s parents,  _ she told herself.  _ He wasn’t tortured.  _ Or at least, he hadn’t been missing. It had all been quite routine, until it wasn’t. 

Another set of doors opened, and she looked up. Other healers were sitting at bedsides, and one strode down the middle, between the beds. Curtains sectioned off some people. Someone was still screaming. It was ear-splitting. Her jaw hurt.

“Here,” Healer Bleu said, crossing the aisle. Ginny followed.

It was all she could do not to swear when she saw him. The skinny figure of her fiance was propped against his pillows, face as white as a sheet. 

“Harry!” She threw her arms around him, panting, somehow already on the bed. Sweat stuck to his face. She planted a kiss on his forehead and then pulled back, blinking. His eyes were glassy - where were his glasses? She couldn’t see them on his bedside table. The green was vibrant amongst the mottle of red and purple. She slid into the seat beside the bed.

“Gin,” he croaked. “You came to see me.”

“I’ve been trying to since you arrived!” she told him. “Bloody healers wouldn’t let me in!”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, the corner of his lips just managing to quirk upwards.

“Ten minutes,” Healer Bleu cautioned, adjusting the curtains. “And no strenuous activity.”

“Come on,” Harry said. “I could be dying here.” Ginny playfully hit his shoulder. Harry inhaled sharply. Guilt rushed through her.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realise - fuck, Harry, I’m sorry.” He was grimacing, now. 

“It’s okay,” he said.

“Ten,” Healer Bleu reminded them, tapping his wristwatch. Then they were left alone. Ginny turned, looking, really  _ looking  _ at her husband-to-be. His face was bruised and swollen, blood welling in one eye, almost making it look as though he was decorated for Christmas two months late. Ginny had never, in her life, seen someone looking like that. Not even at the Battle of Hogwarts. He’d been changed into hospital robes, loose around his small frame. His teeth were gritted, and he cupped his shoulder. She felt like she might’ve puked, easily. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” she asked, her voice soft. “Why haven’t they been able to put you back together?” Even Madam Pomfrey had been able to regrow  _ bones  _ in a single night. Surely the Healers could do more than this? Why the hell weren’t they prioritising him? He was an Auror, and a damn good one, too. The world was worse off without his patrols. 

“Not normal.” He said. “Spells. New ones.” His fingers twitched with every word. She wrapped her hand around his, squeezing tightly. His skin was practically translucent. At least his heart was beating. Oh, thank Godric, at least his heart was beating.  _ He’s already died once,  _ she thought.  _ Don’t do this to me.  _ His hand twitched towards his abdomen. He looked at her. “Have a look.”

Gently, she lifted the hem on his hospital robes. A deep gash ran through his leg, the sides stained with dried blood, the surrounding skin screaming red. But something more was wrong. His whole body was shaking beneath her fingertips. The higher her hands, the larger the pulse. 

“Harry!” she said, eyes wide. On the left side of his abdomen, a large lump rose like a giant, ugly zit. It actually  _ moved  _ with his heartbeat. It looked like it could burst at any moment. “What the  _ fuck _ ?”

He shook his head. “They’re trying to figure it out.”

“Do they have any idea?”

“Ginny, they’re Healers. Do you think they’d tell me?” She ran her thumb over the raised veins of his hand. He was lucky he hadn’t lost a limb, she thought, recalling what they had done to George’s ear.  _ Who  _ had done this to him?  _ Why?  _ She wasn’t an idiot, she knew full well the risks that came with being an Auror, but it had never been like this. Sure, she’d become more familiar with the hospital than she would’ve liked, but he’d never appeared to have a living thing attempting to tear out of his stomach.

“Are they sure it’s not some sort of creature?” she asked. “That’s what it looks like. If I can see that, they should be able to!”

“They don’t think so,” he said. “It’s not as if they do x-rays here, though.”

“X-rays?” What did that  _ even  _ mean? “Muggle thing?”

“They scan you and print, sort of - they get a picture of the inside of your body.”

“Like the weird pictures Hermione shows us of people’s teeth?”

“Yeah.” At least with teeth, she could see how they would get a camera-thing inside. They could hardly shove one down Harry’s throat, could they? Then again, given some of the other things muggles did, maybe that wasn’t too mad. 

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Everyone’s here. Ron, Hermione, Bill and Fleur, the kids, George, Mum. Dad’s been coming to sit and wait while he’s not at work. Luna’s sent half a dozen owls, but she’s still in Tanzania - or Tasmania? - oh, fuck, you know the one. Neville’s put flowers out there that sing songs to cheer you up, and there’s rock cakes from Hagrid that Fleur really likes, and you’ve got maybe two dozen cards.” There was quite the collection of things in the waiting room

“They know that sitting out there isn’t going to stop me from dying?” Harry asked. She winced, and squeezed his hand tighter. 

“Who said you were dying?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light and fluffy. Harry’s forehead creased. 

“Nobody. Look, Ginny, tell them to take the girls home, they’re too little. Just, it doesn’t make a difference who’s here, okay? I can handle it.”

“So what?” she said. “You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Everyone’s here because we’re worried about you, Harry, and it makes us feel better to be here. If a Healer rushes out and says you’ve got ten minutes to live, they aren’t taken up with apparition and signing in and all that bullshit.”

“So everyone’s here for themselves, not for me. How many reporters?”

“ _ None,  _ actually, because we know you hate that and we’ve been sending them down the nargles’ trail every time someone sniffs around. You don’t have to be such a prat about people caring about you.” He jerked his hand out of her grip. Ginny swallowed, but didn’t look away, eyes blazing.

“I just don’t want people put out,” he said, pushing at his robe with his hand. Ginny touched them hem lightly, helping him to tug it back down to cover his legs. “I don’t want people not being able to go to work or appointments or get a good night’s sleep because of me.”

“You’re not a burden,” she said. “It’s part of being part of a family, Harry. We love you. Of course we’re going to worry. But you’d worry about us, too.” She shifted in her seat, moving to put her head next to his on the small hospital bed. She was half-sitting, half-lying, careful not to touch any of the battered parts of his body. This close, she could feel the pulse, thumping against the bed. Nausea rolled in her stomach. “We’re here because we’re choosing to be. I’ll be here every day until you get out, and I’m sure Ron and Hermione will be, too.”

“Could you get them?” he asked, shakily turning onto his side to face her. She reached out and touched his cheek. “And tell the others I’m alright?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Of course. And if you want, I’ll go after the Healers and see if they’ll give me any more bloody information.”

“You’re a legend,” he said, voice throaty. “I love you, Ginny.”   
“I love you too,” she said. “And don’t forget it just so you can wallow.”

“I won’t,” he said. She leaned in, kissing his lips lightly. “Thank you.”


End file.
